Prince cursed the wish he'd been so suddenly granted. For with the silence came the end of the pursuit of his true love and the beginning of a new life with Ethelina…a life without his mysterious and beautiful princess. The room took on a curious opiate view. Where he saw ten candles now appeared at twenty. 'Twas not one pair of eyes each patron sported but quadruple that. By all that was divine, could the grounds not open up to save him?
Alas, non. As future king, his fate was sealed.
He drew himself up and moved to his place beside Maman, Papa and the monstrous Lady Roche, as was expected. What else could he do but prepare for the inevitable?
There was no turning back now. The ballroom's dreamlike facet became reality, his destiny, even as the champagne he'd sipped furled in his belly. Flames in the hundreds of candles stretched into sharp points, the whispers poignant following the sudden hush.
The atmosphere leaden with heavy fragrance that threatened to suffocate him. But like their guests, his eyes moved to the doors at the top of the stairs, dread constricting his chest of breathable air. The doors swung open; the herald stepped forward.
"Lady Pricilla," he bellowed.
Prince swallowed a large lump, his reprieve minimal. It was only a matter of time, non? He watched Pricilla push forward, head held high, prepared for battle. His eyes narrowed. In his short time with these sisters, he'd learned something from the three of them. And something was amiss. He would stake his life on it. Her transformation was breathtaking, he was forced to admit.
Her visible flinch had Prince wondering if she'd been suddenly burdened by Ershelda's fluttering eye affliction, but she recovered quickly enough. But he would swear she was surprised by his presence-yet-on closer inspection her gaze went past him to her mother.
Odd. She descended, adopting a facade of detachment. She stepped forward, her hand outstretched. His lips brushed her fingers, and for once he was grateful for de Lecce's attendance as he stepped forward and escorted her aside.
From his peripheral vision he caught Lady Roche frantically fanning herself, dabbing a proud tear. His own maman, wore a small frown.
In hindsight, he should have confirmed the kidnapping, or leastways, the choking from his cravat. Arnald's remark may have been said in jest, but the trepidation Prince experienced was coming to culmination.
Cinderella was next. She would give him a smile of courage. Her soft dark eyes would offer consolation
Sparkles colored the air as they so often did when she was about. His lips tipped slightly, thinking of her thick dark hair that refused to hold a fashionable curl. Her theatrical delivery on the Eros and his personification of love when she wore the rags of a servant girl. He stuffed the hysterics that threatened to burst through. His thoughts were…traitorous. Why hadn't he thought to try the glass shoe on Cinderella? His affection for her rivaled that of his mysterious princess. A mysterious princess who disappeared without a trace. Dark brown eyes filled his inner vision, merging with that of…non, non. 'Twas impossible.